


Half-light

by Cloudnine101



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, Dark Character, M/M, Short, Symbolism, Young Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Shadows.</p><p>Sometimes, he tries to count them; but somehow, it never seems to work. There is too much darkness in the world; Obi-Wan told him that, a long time ago.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-light

When the word 'shadow' becomes synonymous with your own name, it's hard to keep a hold on what you are.

Shadow.

It's dark - lights flicker on the ceiling, as he watches. The bunk is hard against his back, burning it.

Shadows.

They drift across, barely scraping the surface.

Shadows.

Sometimes, he tries to count them; but somehow, it never seems to work. There is too much darkness in the world; Obi-Wan told him that, a long time ago.

Obi-Wan. It's all he can think about, nowadays; too many years older, his mentor, his guardian. And now, it seems, his everything. He pulls up his arms, trapping them behind his chest. His tunic rides up over his stomach, exposing pale, scarred skin.

He can look at every one of them, and say where it came from: his first duel (with Obi of course), his first competition (yes, he lost, and there was no way that guy wasn't cheating - but Obi was on the sidelines, so he couldn't kick up a fuss), the first time he tried to kiss a girl (don't touch me, scum!). His saviour had wrapped him up, slender fingers dabbing on ointment - feather-light, almost non-existent.

They made him shiver.

"You must take better care of yourself, Anakin." Those fingers, moving over his flesh, raising the hairs on his neck.

"What else can I do?" His master had cast him a glance, lip quirking.

"Best her."

They had sat on the roof, simply being, until the sun rose. The next morning, he'd duelled with the girl - and won, with ease, knocking her to the ground.

Obi had smiled at him; and somehow, because of that, it was all worthwhile. Not to mention the look on her face. When he dreamed of it, he woke laughing.

His master isn't the same as the others - staring at him with pity, with scorn, with anger...with fear. Fear.

Shadows.

It's far, far too dark.

Anakin takes the light-saber from beside his bed, and holds it, balancing it on scarred hands. It casts a blue glow on his face, burning him with its delicate hue. He tilts it towards himself; allows it to hover over his abdomen, hidden it by the loose shirt. He imagines it falling into his chest, splitting the skin apart, burning it.

He places the weapon down, and closes his eyes, and pictures Obi-Wan's smile, lulling him into a false sense of security.

Sometimes, he almost believes they have a chance.


End file.
